Liberty University: A Billion-Dollar Edu-Religious Powerhouse Under the Lens

Liberty University, a self-described bastion of Christian values and conservative education, is today one of the richest and most politically entangled institutions of higher learning in the United States. With nearly $1.6 billion in annual revenue and almost $4.2 billion in assets, the university has grown from a modest Bible college into a vast nonprofit empire. But behind its polished image lies a history marked by ideological extremism, financial opacity, political manipulation, and a disturbing legacy of abuse and betrayal.

Liberty University's tax return is here. 

The institution’s roots reach back to televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., who founded Liberty University in 1971 as Lynchburg Baptist College, with a vision of creating a “West Point of the Christian Right.” Falwell’s project was never merely educational—it was explicitly political. He intended Liberty to serve as a training ground for young evangelicals to take control of the culture and the government.

Falwell’s ambitions were not only spiritual; they were geopolitical. During the 1980s, Falwell Sr. emerged as a vocal supporter of Ronald Reagan’s Cold War foreign policy, especially in Central America. He used his media platform and church networks to defend U.S. military and CIA-backed interventions in Nicaragua and El Salvador, where right-wing authoritarian regimes and paramilitary groups were engaged in brutal counterinsurgency operations. Falwell denounced leftist movements like the Sandinistas as Marxist threats to Christianity and Western civilization. At the height of Reagan's Contra war in Nicaragua, Falwell called on American Christians to “stand with freedom fighters” and backed White House efforts to funnel money and arms to the Contras—despite their involvement in civilian massacres, drug trafficking, and terror campaigns. In this Cold War theater, Liberty University wasn’t just a college; it was a pulpit for Reagan-era militarism cloaked in religious moralism.

Just as controversial was Falwell Sr.’s willingness to partner with the Unification Church of Rev. Sun Myung Moon—a religious sect many evangelicals labeled a cult. Despite deep theological differences, Falwell accepted at least $2.5 million in the 1980s from Moon-affiliated organizations to help keep Liberty University solvent. The money reportedly helped the school avoid bankruptcy during a critical period of expansion. In return, Falwell softened his criticism of Moon and collaborated on conservative media projects such as The Washington Times. The alliance revealed a core truth about Liberty’s founding ethos: that power, not purity, was its guiding principle.

The compromises didn’t end with Falwell Sr. His son, Jerry Falwell Jr., took the university’s politicization to new heights. In 2016, he broke ranks with traditional evangelicals to endorse Donald Trump—then a thrice-married reality television mogul known more for casino deals than church attendance. Falwell Jr.'s early support helped legitimize Trump among conservative Christians. In exchange, Liberty received access to the Trump administration, and Falwell was appointed to a federal education task force. Trump gave a commencement speech at Liberty in 2017 and repeatedly praised the school’s commitment to “America First” values.

During Falwell Jr.’s tenure, the university became deeply enmeshed in right-wing politics. Leaked emails revealed how administrators suppressed dissent on campus, promoted partisan messaging, and used institutional resources for political purposes. Meanwhile, Falwell and his allies engaged in shady real estate deals and personal enrichment schemes. His fall from grace in 2020, following revelations of sexual misconduct, alcohol abuse, and financial irregularities, did little to slow the machine. Liberty continues to function much as it did before—flush with cash, shielded by nonprofit status, and politically aligned with the far right.

Equally disturbing is the university’s systemic mishandling of sexual violence. In 2021 and 2022, ProPublica and other outlets revealed a pattern of institutional cover-up. At least 22 women filed a federal lawsuit accusing Liberty of punishing survivors instead of abusers. Under the school’s strict moral code—“The Liberty Way”—students who reported sexual assault were often blamed for violating university policies on sex, alcohol, or being alone with members of the opposite sex. Some were threatened with expulsion. These cases were not aberrations—they revealed a culture of control and fear designed to protect the university’s brand at all costs.

In the most recent financial filings from 2023, Liberty reported nearly $343 million in grants paid, over $1 million in lobbying expenses, and a $5 million NASCAR sponsorship. Football coach Hugh Freeze received nearly $3.8 million in total compensation, while basketball coach Ritchie McKay earned over $1.4 million. These figures are more typical of a major corporate entity than a religious nonprofit. And yet Liberty continues to benefit from tax exemptions, federal grants, and student loan funds—money that flows into a university that openly mixes religion, nationalism, and political propaganda.

Liberty’s massive online education system has helped it reach students across the U.S. and beyond, bringing in billions in federal aid dollars. It is arguably the largest conduit of taxpayer-funded Christian education in the country. With that reach comes extraordinary power—and a growing obligation for public scrutiny.

Liberty University was built on contradictions. It preaches righteousness while taking money from cult leaders. It promotes purity while covering up abuse. It denounces government overreach while feeding off public funds. It claims to be apolitical while functioning as a partisan training ground.

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we see Liberty not as an outlier, but as a warning—a blueprint for how higher education can be weaponized in the service of power, dogma, and wealth. It is a university in name, but in practice, it is a deeply politicized enterprise built on Cold War propaganda, moral compromise, and an unholy alliance between religion, capitalism, and state violence.

The question remains: how many more Liberties are out there, hiding behind tax exemptions, and operating with near-total impunity?

Liberty University Online: Master’s Degree Debt Factory

Liberty University, one of the largest Christian universities in the United States, has built an educational empire by promoting conservative values and offering flexible online degree programs to hundreds of thousands of students. But behind the pious branding and patriotic marketing lies a troubling pattern: Liberty University Online has become a master’s degree debt factory, churning out credentials of questionable value while generating billions in student loan debt.

From Moral Majority to Mass Marketing

Founded in 1971 by televangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., Liberty University was created to train “Champions for Christ.” In the 2000s, the school found new life through online education, transforming from a small evangelical college into a mega-university with nearly 95,000 online students, the vast majority of them enrolled in nontraditional and graduate programs.

By leveraging aggressive digital marketing, religious appeals, and promises of career advancement, Liberty has positioned itself as a go-to destination for working adults and military veterans seeking master's degrees. But this rapid expansion has not come without costs — especially for the students who enroll.

A For-Profit Model in Nonprofit Clothing

Though technically a nonprofit, Liberty University operates with many of the same profit-driven incentives as for-profit colleges. Its online programs generate massive revenues — an estimated $1 billion annually — thanks in large part to federal student aid programs. Students are encouraged to take on loans to pay for master’s degrees in education, counseling, business, and theology, among other fields. Many of these programs are offered in accelerated formats that cater to working adults but often lack the rigor, support, or job placement outcomes associated with traditional graduate schools.

Federal data shows that many Liberty students, especially graduate students, take on substantial debt. According to the U.S. Department of Education’s College Scorecard, the median graduate student debt at Liberty can range from $40,000 to more than $70,000, depending on the program. Meanwhile, the return on investment is often dubious, with low median earnings and high rates of student loan forbearance or default.

Exploiting Faith and Patriotism

Liberty’s marketing strategy is finely tuned to appeal to Christian conservatives, homeschoolers, veterans, and working parents. By framing education as a moral and patriotic duty, Liberty convinces students that enrolling in an online master’s program is both a personal and spiritual investment. Testimonials of “calling” and “purpose” are common, but the financial realities can be harsh.

Many students report feeling misled by promises of job readiness or licensure, especially in education and counseling fields, where state licensing requirements can differ dramatically from what Liberty prepares students for. Others cite inadequate academic support and difficulties transferring credits.

 The university spends heavily on recruitment and retention, often at the expense of student services and academic quality.

Lack of Oversight and Accountability

Liberty University benefits from minimal federal scrutiny compared to for-profit schools, largely because of its nonprofit status and political connections. The institution maintains close ties to conservative lawmakers and was a vocal supporter of the Trump administration, which rolled back regulations on higher education accountability.

Despite a series of internal scandals — including financial mismanagement, sexual misconduct cover-ups, and leadership instability following the resignation of Jerry Falwell Jr. — Liberty has continued to expand its online presence. Its graduate programs, particularly in education and counseling, remain cash cows that draw in federal loan dollars with few checks on student outcomes.

A Cautionary Tale in Christian Capitalism

The story of Liberty University Online is not just about one school. It reflects a broader trend in American higher education: the merging of religion, capitalism, and credential inflation. As more employers demand advanced degrees for mid-level jobs, and as traditional institutions struggle to adapt, schools like Liberty have seized the opportunity to market hope — even if it comes at a high cost.

For students of faith seeking upward mobility, Liberty promises a path to both spiritual and professional fulfillment. But for many, the result is a diploma accompanied by tens of thousands in debt and limited economic return. The moral reckoning may not be just for Liberty University, but for the policymakers and accreditors who continue to enable this lucrative cycle of debt and disillusionment.

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The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate Liberty University Online and similar institutions as part of our ongoing series on higher education debt, inequality, and regulatory failure.

Older (Desperate) Folks Targeted for Online Robocolleges

In recent years, the profile of student loan borrowers in the United States has shifted dramatically. While student debt is often associated with young adults entering the workforce, a rapidly growing number of older Americans—those aged 50 and above—are carrying significant student loan balances, revealing a troubling new dimension of the nation’s student debt crisis.

As of mid-2025, approximately 7.8 million Americans aged 50 and older hold federal student loan debt, representing about 6% of adults in this age group. Many have borrowed not only for their own education but also to finance their children’s or grandchildren’s schooling. Others have returned to college later in life, seeking new skills or credentials to remain competitive. Yet, these borrowers often face unique challenges that have been exacerbated by the rise of so-called “robocolleges.”

Robocolleges are online institutions that aggressively market to older adults, promising flexible schedules and quick credentials that can lead to better job prospects. However, many of these institutions have come under scrutiny for their low graduation rates, high tuition costs, and poor outcomes for students. Unlike traditional colleges, robocolleges often rely heavily on automated systems and minimal personal support, leaving vulnerable older learners with little guidance about loan obligations or realistic career prospects.

These institutions have played a significant role in trapping many older Americans in unsustainable debt. Borrowers are lured by the promise of upward mobility but frequently end up with degrees that hold limited value in the labor market. The high cost of attendance combined with aggressive recruitment tactics has led many to accumulate tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt with few prospects for repayment.

Among older borrowers—6.2 million between 50 and 61 years old, and 2.8 million aged 62 or older—the average federal student loan balance for the 50–61 cohort is around $47,000, the highest among all age groups. Around 8% are delinquent on their loans, with median delinquent balances near $11,500. For those over 62, approximately 452,000 are in default and face the threat of Social Security benefit garnishment, though recent government actions have temporarily paused such garnishments.

The debt explosion among older Americans has been dramatic: over the past two decades, the number of borrowers aged 60 and above has increased sixfold, with total debt rising nearly twentyfold. Robocolleges, with their predatory recruitment and inadequate educational outcomes, are a central piece of this puzzle, helping to drive up borrowing without delivering commensurate value.

This growing crisis underscores the urgent need for policy reforms tailored to the realities faced by older borrowers. There must be greater transparency and accountability from robocolleges, stronger consumer protections, and expanded debt relief options that reflect the challenges of late-in-life borrowing. Additionally, educational counseling and financial literacy support designed specifically for older students are crucial.

The student debt crisis in America is no longer only about young adults trying to start their careers—it increasingly jeopardizes the financial security and dignity of older generations. As robocolleges continue to trap vulnerable older learners in cycles of debt, the urgency for reform becomes even clearer.

The Higher Education Inquirer will continue to investigate and report on this evolving crisis, amplifying the voices of those caught in the crosshairs of an expanding student debt epidemic.